


War Reparations

by Oscuriti



Category: Naruto
Genre: Conspiracy, Gen, Politics, Post-Chapter 699, War Heroes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 10:14:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6370831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oscuriti/pseuds/Oscuriti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Sasuke wants is for Itachi's name to be added to the Memorial Stone. All Konoha wants is to forget about its involvement in the Uchiha Massacre. An alternate take on the motivations and events that take place between Chapters 699 and 700.</p>
            </blockquote>





	War Reparations

**Author's Note:**

> Hello readers! This fic was created from my musings about what Konoha's stance would be towards Itachi following the events of the Fourth Shinobi World War and my vague memory of a film concerning a soldier's widow who works tirelessly to discover why her husband did not receive the honors he deserved. (Turns out his troop was stranded and had resorted to cannibalism). 
> 
> Please enjoy this story. The first third is written and the rest is outlined and I plan to update regularly. Hopefully none of this ends up in bureaucratically covered-up cannibalism.

After the war, after everyone had been freed from the Infinite Tsukuyomi and the cocoons had been burned, after the Leaf village had been rebuilt and the civilians allowed to trudge back-not-back into familiar-not-familiar homes from the emergency shelters, after the hidden villages had counted their dead and made plans to do without them, after Kakashi had become the newest reluctant Hokage and after Sasuke and Naruto had been released from intensive care, the question of reparations and retribution started to emerge in the whispered recesses of the psyche of a post-war people.

“How could they just let him back into the village?”

“What about all the people like us they’re putting at risk?”

“Is it true they’re letting him stay in the hospital unguarded?” The last word said a bit too shrilly if it was only meant to be an innocent question. 

“I’m telling you, it’s all about favoritism. I knew it. Didn’t I tell you we couldn’t trust this new Hokage? How do we even know that’s the Copy Ninja under that mask? Who knows what’s running the village now.” 

“So what do you think’s gonna happen to him once he can leave the hospital?”

“I’ll tell you what they should do.” And here the speaker drew his index finger across his neck in crude civilian pantomime. “Hasn’t the village been better off without any Uchihas hanging around?”

So went the conversation in the civilian snack bars. 

The question of the last surviving Uchiha’s deserved fate pre-occupied civilian and shinobi minds alike. (Well, they all hoped he was the last and there was not another death-defying would-be world conqueror hiding in the woodwork of the ancient clan.)

In the tea house that served good enough dango that Uchiha Itachi had once been able to convince Hoshigaki Kisame to give them a try even though the slightly sticky sweets would get stuck in the spaces between his sharpened teeth, several ninja had pushed together the smaller tables and shuffled their stools closer and commenced with drinking tea and playing cards, laughing loudly and gossiping intently.

Clearly, the bars had not yet been rebuilt. 

“All I’m saying is: didn’t he leave us to go live with Orochimaru of all people for three years? You know, I think one of my cousins got taken in for one of his creepy experiments.”

“Yeah right, Shiro, everyone knows you’ve only got one cousin and that’s me.” The table snorted and stamped their feet in amusement at Shiro’s embarrassment.

“I wasn’t talking ‘bout you, I was talking about some distant cousin-cousin.” Everyone had lost interest.

“But look, it doesn’t really matter if he lived with Orochimaru for three years. He killed him didn’t he?”

“Yeah, he killed him real well,” the sarcastic emphasis was obvious. “I’m sure he just brought him back to life to have another go at him. You know, cement his reputation as a snake-killer.”

“You don’t know that he’s the one who brought him back.”

“I do too! A friend of a friend saw Orochimaru arriving with Sasuke on the battlefield.”

“But he hasn’t made any threatening gestures towards us.”

“That’s because we got him locked up under house arrest while they decide what to do with him.”

A calm voice intruded, “Still, Uchiha’s not the same as Orochimaru. After all, he took down one of Konoha’s greatest enemies, his own brother.” The shinobi pulled out his bingo book, “See?” He had flipped the page open to the too-young portrait of Uchiha Itachi. Under the picture of a young boy hardened by ANBU service that had been crossed out by a giant red X, in neatly printed typecast block letters, were the words ‘KILLED BY UCHIHA SASUKE’. 

Because of the attacks at the Kage Summit and the subsequent preparations for war, the updated bingo books had never been distributed and general knowledge that one of the most fearsome shinobi was now dead, and his bounty off the table, had never spread. During the clean-up and rebuilding, months-old boxes of crisp new black books had been located and distributed despite being terribly behind-the-times. The bureaucrats who took care of such things were still tied up in the rebuilding effort and decided that it would be inappropriate to let the books go to waste; after all, they could always just issue update memos later on. 

And that was how it came to be that the only updates that the new-not-new bingo books contained were markings of who had been killed by whom and even these were outdated. Orochimaru’s picture was crossed out with a red X, as if he wasn’t currently living in one of the new non-descript apartment blocks. Uchiha Sasuke appeared on the page after his brother’s; his bounty small and his crime of leaving the village adequate to warrant addition to the book though subpar if it was too warrant notice among the book’s usual fare. 

“Maybe he did it all to avenge his clan.” And the statement is a bit too enigmatic, a bit too dangerous and thus the conversation turns to more mundane topics. 

X

And Sasuke stood in the middle of the maelstrom, but as he stared up at an unremarkable ceiling while laying on remarkably prickly hospital bedding, he couldn’t seem to muster up the will to care. 

“Naruto, your pacing is irritating.”

“ –spent all of my best years  
“– drag your ass back. Like hell they’re  
“– do anything. Who do they think they are,” Naruto carried on with the mumbling in hushed tones while his pacing carried him in and out of Sasuke’s earshot. 

“The repetitive mumbling is worse.”

Thankfully, Naruto stopped pacing and stood on the far side of the room, probably still mumbling, but Sasuke could no longer hear him and was allowed to go back to staring at the ceiling and wondering how long he would be tasked with laying on the prickly, soon turning too warm sheets. The bright mid-morning sun was coming through the window and it was approaching that time of day when the rays would start to hit his face at an uncomfortable angle. He had forgotten how sunny Konoha always was.

It was in these languorous hours that his brother’s voice came to him. Whatever choice you make, little brother. I’ll love you forever. But Sasuke seemed to have run out of choices to make. He managed to drift off to sleep, just as Naruto’s mumbling had started to drift closer. Maybe it was time to let someone else handle the planning and decision-making. Even if that someone was a blond-haired idiot. 

X 

Though Kakashi was now officially confirmed to be the next Hokage, Tsunade, for all her initial reluctance, didn’t seem quite ready to give up her job that came with the significant perks of state-funded alcoholism, constant food, and the imperative that everyone listen to and compliment her so that she never had to feel like she was past her prime. But free alcohol, food and authority were not the vices that enticed Hatake Kakashi, so he let Tsunade continue on even though the traditional robe and hat were now his to attempt to look good in.

Besides, it would be more appropriate for her to handle this anyway. It would be more appropriate to allow a Hokage to pardon the man who had saved her life, to allow an erstwhile teammate to forgive the man who had abandoned his team and frightened them from the shadows. 

Tsunade probably knew that this would be her last act in office (or rather that the engendered ill will would make it so). Kakashi was thankful she was handling this, because he had his own pardons to grant, his own forgiveness to share, and his own amends to make and he needed all his newfound political clout for such actions. Being booted from office in his second week would probably make for a sad epilogue to the illustrious Copy ninja’s career. 

X

The Godaime had set off to deliver the news herself. As she walked up the stairs to the second floor of one of the newly rebuilt apartment blocks and relieved Yamato of his guard duty, she thought about what she would say. 

Her attempt at a knock was met by the door swinging open and revealing an incongruously domestic Orochimaru, replete with apron, slippers, hair tied back and the smell of sizzling bacon wafting towards the open door.

“I had a feeling I would get a visitor today. Though I’m not sure if I expected it to be you.” His voice is full of that taunting know-it-all haughtiness that puts her on edge because it is so normal for him.

“Are you going to let me in?”

“How could I refuse, Princess?” He stands to the side and she brushes past the ridiculous frills of his apron to sit at the small two person table in the eat-in kitchen. 

And the air is filled with the pop-sizzle of bacon and the hiss of sunny side up eggs being prepared. Then there is the sound of a plate being set in front of her on a floral place mat and another plate being set down on the other side of the table. The drag of a chair against the linoleum. There is no sound of an S-class missing nin sitting down, there wouldn’t be.

One look at the perfectly cooked eggs and bacon and Tsunade is in tears.

And Orochimaru calmly eats his breakfast with perfect decorum.

“Jiraiya used to cook for us.” Orochimaru calmly, elegantly, and precisely lays this fact onto the fragile tower of their non-existent conversation. 

And Jiraiya had cooked for them, on missions and then random days in Konoha. He had always undercooked the bacon (‘Hey, I don’t like it crunchy’) and overcooked the eggs (‘Wanna make sure it;s done’) then shoveled the food into his mouth to prove to his teammates that it was delicious. It was satisfying and messy.

Tsunade knows she shouldn’t fall for this. She knows that Orochimaru is a master at psychological warfare and torture. “I’m not in the mood to lose another teammate.” She thinks that it might be a good sign that he has not tried to attack her with the butter knife and escape, but she knows that he is too mature and calculating and too refined for such a plan. 

He finishes chewing calmly and dabs at the corners of his mouth with a cloth napkin. Given how much he liked creature comforts, living in those cave hideouts must have seemed like torture. Though perhaps he had a room decked out to the nines just for himself. Tsunade thinks both options are equally likely.  
He studies her and remains silent, waiting to discern the direction of the wind.

They are deadlocked.

“It’s good to be back here,” he offers. 

“You’re not staying. I’m pardoning you, but you’re banished from Konoha forever.” And she hopes that the reason he stands up and clears his plate is that he has been hurt by the loss of a home. He needed to be punished after all. “Your name will be taken off of the kill list in Konoha’s bingo books.”

“Heaven knows how long that process might take,” his dry chuckle rattles from his position by the sink, “I’m sure the elders will be happy to get the reward money they put up returned to them.”

She bangs her fist on the table, creating a hairline crack that is all too visible against the light colored wood. “Stop it, just stop! Go make you goddamn perfect breakfasts wherever you want as long as it’s not here.” She doesn’t know where the anger comes from.

“You were always too soft to be Hokage.”

“And you never wanted to stay enough to be Hokage!”

He washes the dishes while wearing purple rubber gloves. 

At last he finishes and walks over to her seat, squeezes her shoulder with an icy hand made lukewarm by the dishwashing and, in a remorseful, resigned, not-normal voice, says, “When do I leave?”

“As soon as I sign the pardon letter.”

Orochimaru packs. Tsunade eats the now cold breakfast that is now short of perfect. The slightly congealed bacon grease and the rubbery coldness of egg white and yolk make the meal more palatable. 

X

The villagers took to the announcement of Orochimaru’s pardon as well as could be expected. Tsunade chooses to leave the village and resume her life of traveling and gambling with Shizune and her pig in tow. One of Kakashi’s first acts as Hokage is to assign a long-term mission to his long-time friend; Yamato would continue on as Orochimaru’s guard and submit reports of any suspicious activity. 

If Orochimaru noticed his former test subject trailing him as he walked along the shady dirt path that led away from the village, he pretended not to. Instead, he focused on the sound of the hot dry wind moving through summer leaves and the fading chatter of Konoha.

X

Sasuke is finally released from the hospital on an unusually rainy day, a perfect day for Kirin and he knows he can still channel that mythical amount of electricity despite the chakra seals placed on him, but he does not wish to do so. Even with the baleful looks and wary whispers that surround him on his walk, he can only conjure up brief annoyance but not full blown malice. Everyone pretends to be preoccupied with menial tasks as Naruto zealously takes on his self-appointed task of glaring, and occasionally yelling, down all rumors. 

And Sasuke, once again, feels that it is comforting to be led by someone else.

“Hurry up, Sasuke. I don’t want to get caught in the rain.”

Sasuke follows Naruto as they turn off the main road and climb up the two flights of open-air steps to Naruto’s apartment. Naruto had insisted that Sasuke stay with him. House arrest until they decide what to do with me. He was glad to have a place to live again that wasn’t a cave hideout with off-putting experimental labs nearby or an inn room that a love-sick receptionist would offer for free. 

Besides, he doubted he had too many options beyond Naruto’s place. Being a missing-nin wasn’t really the most profitable career choice and the substantial Uchiha clan funds he had had access to after the massacre had been confiscated when he was thirteen as per the law. 

And he doubted anyone other than Naruto would be willing to offer up limited living space to a traitor.  
Naruto finally locates his keys and Sasuke gets a glimpse inside his new home. It might be his last. The place is a little too barren to be messy, but a little too disordered to be neat, and all of it smells of new paint and newly-cut wood. 

“You should take a bath. You smell like disinfectant and sick.” He finds a towel and some clothes that will fit.

“I need to head out for a bit. You should eat something, you look a bit pale.”

And Sasuke is bundled off to the bathroom. As the door is closed, he hears Naruto shout out a warning about the expired milk. Then the front door closes and Naruto gets caught in the rain storm.

X

The council room has grown dark and fusty as the storm rages on outside. As the wind whips water droplets to ping against the window panes with senbon-like hardness and causes the building to groan and the eaves to vibrate with the force of it all, Naruto cannot believe how pig-headed everyone is being.

“Kakashi-sensei, you can’t seriously believe Sasuke should be locked up forever! He took down Orochimaru! He helped us win the war! He came back home! He –”

“He abandoned the village and voluntarily became a missing-nin. He willingly delivered the Sharingan into the hands of one of Konoha’s greatest enemies. He attacked the Kages and started a war we barely won. And that’s just what we can confirm for sure,” Councilor Homura’s voice is calm and clear, rising above the storm-driven humidity, even as he levels accusations. He slouched, almost-imperceptibly, a bit too comfortable for Naruto’s liking. He knows this elder thinks Sasuke killed Danzo, and Naruto knows this is true, but it is unconfirmed and even Naruto knows it would look unaccountably bad if it was ever confirmed. Luckily, no one had had time to go poking around and investigating the exact circumstances of the interim Hokage’s demise.

“Besides, didn’t your whole age group agree that Sasuke should be hunted down and killed?” 

Naruto attempted to control his rage at the obvious taunt. “That was before he decided to come back to Konoha and protect it!”

Kakashi glances at him to remind him to stay seated. Shinobi-turned-career politicians responded to diplomacy and subterfuge not physical threats. 

“Yes, child, but we must question the authenticity of such a claim from one of the Leaf’s greatest enemies.” Naruto made to interrupt at this point, but Councilor Utatane’s feminine voice rose above his brewing dissent, “Hokage-sama, surely you must have heard the talk by now? The civilians are scared. They need to hold someone accountable for the war and we have lost too many shinobi because of his actions. It is your job as Hokage to look out for the village as a whole.”

“Would it be wise to let the wishes of scared villagers drive the decisions of this council?” Kakashi sounds tired. Naruto hates that the councilors have turned his childhood dream into political quagmire for his friend who is not quite a father figure. 

“Remember, Hokage-sama, scared villagers can become angry in a second.” Councilor Utatane sits up a bit straighter, precisely fans herself, once, twice.

“A village is made of villagers, not Hokages,” the threat clear in Councilor Homura’s voice.

Kakashi, because he is Hokage now, is forced to think the councilors are wise. Naruto thinks they have grown to be more civilian than ninja. 

X

A sullen Naruto meets Sakura at the still somewhat under-construction, but functional, Ichiraku’s. He orders his usual and slurps down noodles to avoid Sakura’s inquiries about the council meeting and the fate of her childhood crush. 

But everything tastes too new and the sticky dampness of the rain-gorged wooden bar feels too cloying and Sakura’s questions sound too insistent, so he finally gathers the courage to tell Sakura that yes, he had brought Sasuke back, but it doesn’t look like he’ll be able to bring him back to her.

After the council meeting it has become clear than Sasuke’s case is far more complicated than Orochimaru’s. He has no outgoing-Hokage to issue a career-ending pardon. And besides, the sinfulness of the Uchihas is still on everybody’s minds and few remember Sasuke as anything more than an insufferably morose child or a deranged avenger. Orochimaru’s wrongdoing is long ago and far away from the detailed focus of collective memory and most remember that he was a great ninja and war hero before all that, one of the storied Sannin.

And that is when Sakura comes up with the idea to make Sasuke into something legendary.

X

Sasuke has not touched the expired milk by the time Naruto makes it home, but the uncharacteristic silence that has been dragging on for the last hour as the TV plays, makes him wish he had, just so everything could be a bit more interesting.

“We met with the council today.” The sentence tapers off, cowed, as if it had not meant to escape and implicate its owner.

“So what’s going to happen?” Because it is useless to deny his situation and he is not too worried since the Sharingan is far too valuable for them to lose.

“They haven’t decided yet, but the prevailing opinion seems to be life imprisonment.”

And Sasuke, in his mind’s haste to rationalize away death as possibility, has not considered his option. He is terrified to find out that in his haste to accept either life or death he has not imagined imprisoned life as an option. After spending a good part of his teenage years wandering the five nations and enjoying the freedom of the changing scenery, he feels that lifelong stasis is will be the worse torture imaginable. A ninja who sits and waits for death is no ninja. 

He needs to move while he still can, so he gets up, shuts off the white noise of the TV and comes back to the couch.

“Am I allowed to go outside if I am accompanied?”

Naruto’s surprise at the abrupt turn in the conversation is poorly hidden. “Why wouldn’t you be allowed to go outside?”

“Because not going outside is the definition of house arrest.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Isn’t that the reason I’m staying with you?”

“Why can’t you understand? I just thought my best friend needed a place to stay.” Naruto’s whispered statement is piteously wrapped in the hurt of betrayal. And Naruto does not have the heart to tell him about Sakura’s plan, because if Sasuke can misconstrue something as simple and pure-hearted as the invitation of a best friend to stay over as politically-motivated, then how could their newly-recovered friendship survive something far more complicated.

“I’m sorry.” For causing you pain again. For needing to ask for things. “You’ll tell me what the council decides?” It comes across as a plead for time.

Naruto understands. “If it comes to that, we’ll leave and start our own village together with Sakura-chan and Kakashi-sensei!” And his bright smile breaks the concealed dance that their conversation had become. The humid rain-soaked air is cleared away by a cold gusty wind. 

And Sasuke understands the seriousness of his friend’s promise.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed the first chapter.
> 
> P.S. I am doing research on what it means to be a fan fiction author/reader in the context of neoliberalism and what need such immense amounts of fan labor fill . I would greatly appreciate it if you would take some time to tell me (in the comments or email me at aurelianoscuriti@gmail.com) about why you write/read fan fiction. 
> 
> I would be happy to write a gift fic for anyone who does respond (provided, of course, that you like my writing enough to want more of it)


End file.
